


Safe in Your Sound

by swaps55



Series: Opus - The Multiverse [8]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: They're safe with each other.Word doodles and other miscellaneous prompts and short fics, Sam Shepard and Kaidan Alenko. Mostly fluffy.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard
Series: Opus - The Multiverse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006281
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29





	1. Bedtime Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a routine, now. A good one. They’re sleeping better than they have in months. Years.
> 
> If Shepard would just fucking put his limbs where they fucking belong.
> 
> (I wanted them to be dorks, so here they are being madly in love dorks. I'm not apologizing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted to [Pieces Form the Whole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244374/chapters/2556937) because I did not think things through, whoops.

Shepard shifts in his spot on Kaidan’s chest, head moving just a little to the right. The arm draped over Kaidan’s chest slips higher, fingers curling around his shoulder. The sheet covering them both is hopelessly mussed, the lion’s share on Shepard’s side of the bed. Shepard tugs it once to adjust it, leaving Kaidan’s foot out in the cold.

Dammit.

In the dark of the cabin he can’t see Shepard’s face, but the smirk doesn’t need light to be visible. That particular curve of his lips has an invisible power more potent than the eezo nodes hidden beneath their skin.

Without saying a word, Kaidan gently nudges Shepard’s head back to its former spot, then reaches over and redirects the errant hand so its sits lower on Kaidan’s shoulder. By the time he’s reclaimed enough of the blanket to recover his foot, Shepard’s head and hand are out of place again.

“Why,” Kaidan asks, staring at the ceiling.

The invisible smirk gets bigger. Kaidan doesn’t know how he knows. He just _does_.

“Why what?” Shepard asks, having the audacity to sound half asleep.

“That’s not where your hand goes.” Kaidan nudges Shepard’s head again, less gently this time. “And that’s not where _that_ goes, either.”

“That’s exactly where it goes,” Shepard replies. “I put it there, I should know.”

“Sam.”

“Kaidan.”

“You’re _doing_ it wrong.”

Shepard removes the offending hand from Kaidan’s shoulder. For a moment Kaidan thinks he’s actually going to listen. Instead he flops it on Kaidan’s face. “Less talking, more sleeping.”

Kaidan chuckles in spite of himself, then takes Shepard’s hand and puts it back on his shoulder. In the _right_ spot. Because they have a routine, now. A good one. They’re sleeping better than they have in months. Years.

If he would just fucking put his limbs where they fucking belong.

Shepard tugs the blanket again, this time uncovering Kaidan’s leg.

“You ass.”

Now the smirk is a grin. “You love my ass.”

“Don’t bring your ass into this. That’s cheating.”

Shepard snickers. But leaves his hand in the right spot. Of course, that’s because he shifts his leg out of place.

“Why are you like this,” Kaidan asks.

“So you won’t get bored.”

Kaidan nuzzles Shepard’s forehead with a huff. “With you? You and ‘bored’ don’t belong in the same star system.”

Shepard moves his hand again, and Kaidan laughs his surrender before kissing him on the mouth.

“There it is,” Shepard says with a contented sigh when they part.

“There what is?” Kaidan asks.

Shepard readjusts himself until they fit seamlessly together. Both of them right where they’re supposed to be. “Hadn’t heard you laugh since this morning. I missed it.”

Kaidan laughs again. “So you decided to bother the shit out of me?”

“Did it work?”

“…no comment.”

“That’s what I thought. Go to sleep, Kaidan.”

Kaidan hesitates, but then gives voice to the thought nagging his brain. “It is weird that sometimes I don’t want to?”

The quiet hiss of an air circulator fills the silence. 

“No,” Shepard says softly.

The warm weight of him on Kaidan’s chest is real. Reassuring, especially when what they have feels so fragile. Stolen. Their moments together so finite. He doesn’t want to miss any of them.

He kisses Shepard on the forehead. Caresses his face with his knuckles. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”


	2. Little Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #TeamKaidanIsTheBigSpoon
> 
> Inspired by this [adorable artwork](https://shotce.tumblr.com/post/157426616532/i-saw-these-hoodies-online-and-had-to-do-a-quick) by Shotce.

Even when they try to celebrate something these days, it turns into something closer to desperate drinking before the end of the night. Most of the time the desperate drinking goes well into the early morning, and not, Garrus thinks, because everyone is that hell bent on getting drunk. More like they don’t want to let go of each other’s company and go to sleep, where the only company is the nightmare scenarios in everyone’s heads.

Tonight is no different, even though it’s supposed to be. Shepard didn’t want to celebrate his birthday in the first place, but once someone – Garrus’ money is on Traynor – let it slip, the entire ship latched onto it.

Which is why the lounge is currently the busiest place on the ship. Kaidan manhandles Joker, James, Dr. Chakwas and Cortez at a rousing game of poker. Liara and Tali giggle – Garrus now has recorded proof that Liara can _giggle –_ on the couch as they explain an Earth romance novel series to Traynor and EDI. Shepard, on the other hand, sits at the bar with hunched shoulders, swirling a shot of whiskey with a scowl. It would be more intimidating without the half-eaten slice of cake sitting next to him the party hat Traynor had fabricated from an omnitool hanging around his neck.

Garrus knows when to quit at poker, so when the hand ends he slides into the seat next to Shepard and pours himself a turian brandy.

“Did Kaidan clean you out?” Shepard asks.

“And then some,” Garrus concurs. His brow plates shift. “You’re not drunk enough yet.”

“No kidding.” He holds up the shot and clinks it against Garrus’ carapace, then kicks it back. Garrus drinks his, pours them both another one, then grabs a napkin and dabs the whiskey that’s now on his carapace.

“So why are you anti-birthday? I thought humans loved commemorating their ages.”

Shepard grimaces. “How fucking old am I, Garrus?”

Garrus blinks. “I have no idea. I don’t have your file memorized. Ok, I may have your blood pressure memorized. And your typical heart rate, both in and out of combat. Oh, and after that incident on Korlas I got to learn all about human blood sugar. Specifically yours. But not your _age._ ”

Shepard tilts his head. “What’s my blood pressure?”

“Now, or usually?”

“Usually.”

“One fourteen over seventy-six.”

“Well, shit.”

“Drink your whiskey.”

Shepard does, so Garrus does, and then pours them both another. Shepard’s Cerberus metabolism makes the actual ‘drunk’ part a lot harder than it used to be. Through a lot of trial and error, Garrus learned the key is rapid-fire shots and a can-do attitude. Sometimes the can-do attitude has to come from Garrus.

“Ok, so back to your weird hang up with age,” Garrus says.

Shepard finds an empty bottle of beer and starts picking at the label. From the couch, Traynor utters the phrase “that’s not how a strap on works if you’re going for realism,” and Garrus regrets having ears.

“I should be turning 30,” Shepard says, so quietly Garrus almost misses it trying to tune out Traynor. “Thirty’s a big deal for humans. I guess.” He goes back to swirling his whiskey, holding the shot glass up to his eyeline and examining it closely before kicking it back.

“Ah,” Garrus says wisely. It _isn’t_ hard for _him_ to get drunk, something he always forgets when he starts matching shots with Shepard. “But then you died.”

“Yeah. So how old am I? Am I thirty? Or am I thirty-two? I missed two fucking years of my life, Garrus. Those years were mine. I wanted them.” He turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the poker game going on behind them. Or more likely, the biotic major who is kicking everyone’s ass at the poker game.

“Two years of birthday sex would be a shitty thing to miss out on,” Garrus says with a solemn nod.

That earns him a snicker. “Something like that. I’ll be honest, I feel more robbed of the cuddling than the sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong he’s—”

“Shepard, I am gonna stop you right there, because I am not drunk enough to hear about the intimate details of your sex life and I am positive that all of your crewmates on the couch are now listening to every word you say.”

“We are not,” Tali huffs.

Garrus flicks a mandible.

Shepard shrugs, unconcerned. “The cuddling is fucking stellar.” He shoots the whiskey, slamming the empty glass back on the table.

“I know. So you’ve said.”

Shepard probably doesn’t realize _just_ how much he’s talked about Alenko’s snuggling superpowers. It took Garrus awhile to figure out how spoons factored into it, but eventually he got there. It was a lot less…weird than he’d been picturing. Humans are so endlessly bendy.

“I just…don’t particularly enjoy celebrating the reminder that I’m never getting those two years back.”

Garrus’ mandibles quiver. “Well, you weren’t supposed to come _back_ at all. Dying is pretty permanent for everyone who’s not you. Why not celebrate the fact that when you stop brooding and Alenko gets tired of taking Vega’s money, you’re going to go back up to your cabin and be the little spoon you were born to be?”

Shepard tilts his head. “You might have a point there.”

“Hang on, the universe just provided me with some rather cosmic timing.” Garrus gets unsteadily to his feet, walks unsteadily to the couch and unsteadily leans Tali forward so he can grab a small parcel he’d stuffed behind the cushion.

“Hey,” Tali protests.

“You’re beautiful and I’ll make that up to you,” he informs her before shuffling back to the bar with the package. He clears his throat loud enough for the poker table to hear. He and Alenko had created a code word for this, but fuck if he remembers what it is. Thankfully, Alenko isn’t nearly as dense as Shepard, and figures it out. He lays his cards on the table, gets to his feet, and heads to the bar, pausing to grab another hidden parcel.

“Happy birthday,” Garrus says, handing him the gift. The packaging is just a zipped duffle bag. Garrus figured that having the idea was more important than figuring out how to make taped paper look special.

Shepard narrows his eyes. “You got me a birthday present.”

Alenko leans a nonchalant elbow on the bar, beer in hand. Shepard, as predicted, hasn’t noticed his costume change.

“Yeah,” Garrus says. “Because I don’t give a damn how old you are. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Shepard unzips the bag and pulls out a hoodie. It’s a pullover, just like the one Kaidan now wears, with the word “Little” emblazoned on the front, over the silhouette of a spoon.

Shepard blinks at it, brow knitting in confusion, until he looks up and notices Kaidan wearing its twin. Only his says “Big” over the spoon.

The confusion melts into a grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He laughs, and looks back at Garrus. “You are such an asshole.”

Garrus holds up his glass. “I learn from the best.”

Kaidan slips the birthday hat still dangling from his neck off so Shepard can put the hoodie on. Garrus half expects both of them to bail for the privacy of Shepard’s cabin, but the desire for shared company affects Shepard as much as it affects the rest of them. He abandons the bar and switches to the couch, bringing Kaidan with him. Liara moves over to give them room. When they sit, Kaidan draws Shepard into his arms and traps him close.

“To spooning,” Traynor declares, holding up a glass of wine.

“We should add that to the story,” Liara says, sipping her martini.

“Way ahead of you,” Tali agrees.

Shepard smiles, settling deeper into Kaidan’s arms.

Savior of the Galaxy, and Kaidan Alenko’s little spoon. Garrus shakes his head. He has the weirdest fucking friends.


	3. Biotic Piggy Back Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was asked whether Sam or Kaidan was more likely to give each other a piggy back ride, and because I thought way too much about it, this happened.

Art by [Okenrow](https://okenkrow-art.tumblr.com/)

“It’s your fault we’re out here,” Kaidan says. He slips an arm behind Shepard’s back, stifling a yawn.

The last glow of light in the sky is fading fast, shadowing the cherry trees in twilight. They’re in full bloom this time of year. Worth the long walk to see the sunset blanket those blossoms in gold.

“You’re the one who doesn’t ride,” Shepard points out. “Horse would make getting home a lot faster.”

“No thank you. Those things steer worse than the Mako.”

Shepard huffs. For a little while they walk in silence aside from the muffled sounds of crickets and the breeze stirring the trees. They’ll have to pull the flashlight out, soon. Kaidan yawns again.

“Gonna make it?” Shepard asks with amusement.

“Mmm. Slept like shit last night.”

Shepard cards his hand through Kaidan’s hair. “If you were that tired, why did you let me drag you out here?”

“Because I love you,” Kaidan replies, as if Shepard had just asked him what color the sky is.

Love is so simple to Kaidan, sometimes. Shepard tugs him to a halt, spins him around and kisses him good and hard on the mouth.

“What was that for?” Kaidan asks, breathless.

“Because I love you,” Shepard replies. “C’mere. I’ll carry you home.”

His corona flares, catching Kaidan right as he hops off the ground to climb on his back. When Kaidan wraps his arms around Shepard’s neck he’s a fraction of his usual weight, and this time Shepard doesn’t almost shoot him into the sky.

Smooth as fuck.

“Can I make a horse joke?” Kaidan mumbles into his neck.

“No.”

He clucks his tongue anyway, and Shepard chuckles as he resumes walking, the soft glow of dark energy haloed around them providing enough light to keep them on the path back to the house.

Between the light breeze, the slow march of stars across the sky and Kaidan planting sloppy kisses against his neck, he nearly lets go of the field a few times.

Kaidan waves a lazy hand. Shepard inhales sharply as his corona shimmers to life, strumming his nerves like someone just whispered something soft in his ears. Goosebumps prickle along his arms, and the weight on his back gets even lighter.

He angles his head just a little. He doesn’t need to see Kaidan’s smirk to know it’s there.

“Hey, you. This is a grand romantic gesture. Stop helping.”

“I’m sparing you the embarrassment of dropping me,” Kaidan replies, resuming his ministrations to Shepard’s throat, just to prove he can multitask.

“There’s a lake just over that hill. I’d be happy to drop you in it.”

“Mm mn. You won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because when you fish me out and pick me up again you’d have to account for all that water in your mass calculations.”

“You’re the worst,” Shepard says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, you chose me, so that sounds like your fault.”

Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s legs. “I did,” he says softly. _And I always will._


	4. Malestrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t Shepard talking; it’s the tempest. And it just needs to rage.

Kaidan jumps when Shepard hurls the datapad across the cabin with a swear. The fishtank is made of sterner stuff than Kaidan would have guessed – the gravity well somersaults when he makes the throw from the couch, whiff of dark energy sharp against the circulated air – but it clatters harmlessly off and hits the floor with a smack.

“We lost Benning,” Shepard says, putting his head in his hands. The defeated curl now shaping his spine is becoming achingly, painfully familiar. “The reapers showed up eighteen hours ago.” He swears again.

“Sam,” Kaidan says, voice soft. He’s getting more and more practice with moments like this. When Shepard erupts, Kaidan has to stay steady, the silent center of a maelstrom that doesn’t want to be quelled. 

“I almost got Vega _killed_ protecting that shit colony from Cerberus.”

Kaidan almost corrects him. It seems so important that Shepard understand when it isn’t his fault, that Vega was just doing his job protecting a colonist and is still alive and kicking down in the lounge. But this isn’t Shepard talking; it’s the tempest. And it just needs to rage.

“I fucking _worked_ with them,” Shepard cries, throwing an arm up. “They were supposed to _help_ humanity. Instead they caged half those people up like cattle and did who the fuck knows with them. And I had to clean it up. It’s always _me,_ and then it turns out all we did was soften the place up for the reapers.”

Both Shepard’s hands return to his head, where he digs his fingernails into his scalp. Gently, Kaidan pries the one closest to him loose and holds it tight with both hands.

“We _needed_ that colony,” Shepard says. “It’s the only defensible source of magnetorhetium and we just fucking lost it.” He sucks in a sharp, shaky breath.

There it is. The break. It comes quicker and quicker now, just another sign of how taxed, how spent he really is. He doesn’t have the energy to maintain the storm for long. Not when he needs it for so many other things.

“Sam,” Kaidan tries again.

“We’re defeating ourselves,” Shepard says, voice bleak.

“Hey.”

Shepard finally looks at him. Kaidan’s heart lurches. Even this desperate, he’s so beautiful.

Kaidan tugs at the hand still clasped in his. Shepard resists, but just for a moment. Then he folds into Kaidan’s arms, head against his chest.

“It’ll be all right,” Kaidan tells him.

Sometimes, they lie to each other. Sometimes, it’s the only way to get from one moment to the next.

Shepard says nothing, the fingers fisting in the fabric of Kaidan’s shirt saying it for him. _Don’t let go._ So Kaidan holds him tighter, soaking in his warmth, his weight, the beat of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and that, at least, is the truth.


	5. Through the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny, for as well as they know each other, some things are still completely unknown. Would they have compatible tastes? Kaidan’s not sure what his own tastes in décor are, if he’s being honest. He’s never…thought about it.
> 
> Imagine if their relationship falls apart because they can’t agree on curtains.
> 
> Oh well, they’ll just have to live somewhere without curtains, then.

Kaidan hesitates outside the elevator on deck 1 when EDI confirms Shepard is still down in the war room. No telling how long it’ll be before the quarians turn Shepard loose. He should probably go back to the crew deck to wait. Plenty of things he’s putting off already by coming up here at all.

He rocks on his feet, hand half-raised to the lock panel. Just because Shepard gave him the access code doesn’t mean he has to use it. Though, what exactly is he afraid of if he does? Shepard is the one who asked him to come by, after all. Besides, the galaxy is splintering all around them. The reapers take more ground every day. Making himself at home in his CO’s cabin isn’t exactly a transgression that rates high on the anxiety list.

Dammit, why is he thinking about this so hard?

The elevator closes behind him. He mutters under his breath, inputs the lock code, and the door slides open.

He moves inside, eyes going straight for the fishtank. _Fish_. He never would have pegged Shepard for someone who would care about fish. Why in the world would Cerberus bother with a fish tank in the first place? No less strange than the hamster, Kaidan supposes. _It was a gift,_ Shepard had protested, as it crawled over his fingers and whuffled his palm. _Garrus said humans need companions that shed, which was news to me, but whatever. I’m lucky he didn’t bring an actual dog on board._

A small smile crosses Kaidan’s face. He heads for the hamster cage and taps it gently with a finger until the curious nose appears. So. Apparently fish and rodents are in Kaidan’s future. Better than horses, at least. 

So rare that Kaidan has had an opportunity to just…exist in Shepard’s personal space. For someone who’s lived his entire life with the military, it’s fascinating to note what habits are ingrained and where he stops giving a shit.

When it comes to _order,_ Shepard definitely doesn’t give a shit. The desk is a mess of datapads, coffee cups, and MRE wrappers. A jacket lies haphazardly slung over the back of a chair. Peering down at the coffee table below, a tray from the mess and some empty glasses wait for disposal, along with more datapads. 

Shoved in the far corner of the desk is a box with a model turian cruiser, yet to be assembled and added to the collection. _Ships, Sam? Model ships?_ Kaidan had asked. _You told me to get a hobby,_ he’d replied.

The ships are indeed one of the only personal touches in the entire cabin, aside from the mess. Military spacer to the core – Shepard travels light. If Kaidan even suggested hanging something on the wall, he’s willing to bet the response would be a baffled look.

What would they hang, anyway? Funny, for as well as they know each other, some things are still completely unknown. Would they have compatible tastes? Kaidan’s not sure what his own tastes in décor are, if he’s being honest. He’s never…thought about it.

Imagine if their relationship falls apart because they can’t agree on curtains.

Oh well, they’ll just have to live somewhere without curtains, then.

Kaidan goes down the steps. A discarded undershirt lies on the floor near the bed, abandoned in a hurry. Either because Shepard had too much to do to stop and pick it up, or because he’d already forgotten it and moved on before it hit the floor. Probably the latter.

There is at least one personal item on display. A photo of Kaidan sits on the nightstand. He picks it up, tracing the frame with a finger. It’s from the medal ceremony in Vancouver, complete with mussed hair from the downpour they’d been out in that morning. In the photo, Kaidan grins at something off camera. Sam. He’s grinning at Sam. Where had he gotten it? Who had given it to him?

Shouldn’t just be of Kaidan. They should find one of them both.

He pauses, uneasy.

_That’s why_.

That’s why he was thinking so hard about coming in here on his own, as if it’s their space and not Shepard’s.

They’ve spent so much time trying _not_ to think about the future they might never have. And yet here it is, unfurling before his very eyes. What their life would look like together when they’re not meeting in Shepard’s cabin off-shift for some time alone, but coming _home._ To a place that’s theirs. Wherever that might be. Whenever that might be. 

He chews his lip and sets the photo back down.

The gravity well shimmies and the hairs on Kaidan’s arms stand on end as the door slides open and Shepard strides into the room, staring at a datapad and making a note with a finger. He mutters something under his breath before tossing it on his desk with the others. When he looks up he stops and stares like he’s never seen Kaidan before in his life.

“Hey, you,” he says, voice rough, like it takes him a moment to remember how to use it. “You’re…here.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaidan stammers. “You gave me the code. I just let myself in—”

Shepard glides down the steps and sweeps him into an embrace, crushing him to his chest and holding him tight. Kaidan returns it, puzzled.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Shepard pulls away from him, catches his chin in his fingers and kisses him until Kaidan’s toes curl. “This,” he says when they part. “This is what I want for the rest of my life. To come through that door and find you here. Because this is home. And I’m home. With you.”

Kaidan’s stomach flips. He runs a thumb along Shepard’s cheek. “Thought you didn’t look that far ahead.”

“I do with you.”

“Okay,” Kaidan says, slow, measured. “I’m going to need you to kiss me again. Right now.”

Shepard is only too happy to oblige. “And I’m going to need you to lose the shirt,” he mumbles against Kaidan’s mouth. “And the pants.”

“What, no dinner first?”

“Lose the damn shirt.”

Kaidan grins against his lips. “I had no idea domesticity would be such a turn on for you.”

“Less talking, more naked.” Shepard tugs impatiently at the hem of his shirt _._

“Suddenly I think we should go curtain shopping.”

“You’re about to be _way_ too naked for curtain shopping.” He whips Kaidan’s shirt over his head, dropping it next to the forgotten undershirt on the floor.

Kaidan catches his hand, kisses his knuckles and exhales, expression turning solemn. “Sam. As long as you keep walking through that door I’ll be here. Every time.”

“I know,” Shepard says softly.

“Sometimes, maybe even without a shirt.”

Shepard grins, then kisses him again. And then Kaidan loses the pants. 


	6. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The expression on Kaidan’s face states a very clear and strongly held opinion on mornings.

Shepard flips on the coffee pot in the kitchen, squinting at the early morning sunlight filtering in through the windows. Not a cloud in the sky today, and unless the forecast is a lie it won’t be so fucking cold, either. Perfect day for a ride _._ Feels like they’ve been stuck inside for ages. If they’re going to live planetside, might as well take advantage of a few of the perks when the weather cooperates.

His nerves tingle in the presence of Kaidan’s biotic field. He turns from the coffee pot to find him padding through the living room wearing nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants and perhaps the most impressive bedhead Shepard’s seen yet in their few short months together at the orchard.

“Hey, you,” Shepard says with a slow grin. “Did I wake you?”

The expression on Kaidan’s face states a very clear and strongly held opinion on mornings. He scratches his ear and yawns. “Come back to bed.”

“But it’s such a nice day.” Shepard gestures to the window. Kaidan blinks at the sun like it’s personally offended him.

“So open a window.” He turns around and starts plodding back towards the bedroom. When Shepard doesn’t immediately follow he shucks off his pants and leaves them in a puddle on the floor.

“Hey, now,” Shepard says appreciatively.

Kaidan looks briefly over his shoulder, then resumes walking. “Come back to bed.”

“Yes, _sir,_ ” Shepard replies.

“Say that again and see what happens to you.” Kaidan begins trekking up the stairs. 

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

Shepard takes one last look out the window before following, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it behind him on his way up the stairs. He can enjoy outside later. View’s better in here, anyway.


	7. Compliments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A short scene where Kaidan compliments Sam.

Shepard comes out of the shower still dripping and toweling himself off, unable to stand still long enough to do it in the bathroom in the same way he wanders around the entire cabin while brushing his teeth.

His current state of undress more than makes up for the wet footprints he leaves in his wake. Not often Kaidan gets to just…stare at him this unabashedly. So he puts the datapad he’d been reading in bed on the nightstand and does exactly that.

When Shepard abandons the towel on the railing by the fishtank and looks up, the deep thought lines on his brow soften, replaced by something almost…bashful.

“What?” he asks, making his way down the stairs.

“Just…objectifying you a little,” Kaidan says, lips curving into a smile. He’s not even bothered by the abandoned wet towel that’s slid into a heap on the floor.

Ok, he’s a _little_ bothered.

“Objectifying me?” Shepard says in mock dismay as he digs out a clean pair of briefs and tugs them on. Not many people get to see the Savior of the Galaxy nearly trip and fall putting on his underwear. “But I thought you loved me for my charming personality.”

“That, too,” Kaidan concurs, still staring as Shepard rummages for a shirt.

“Forget the shirt,” Kaidan tells him. “C’mere and let me just…revel in you a little.”

Shepard hums, a little bit of pride mixing with the flush in his cheeks. He slips into bed beside Kaidan, deliberately rumpling the sheet to rest below his waist. Kaidan’s smile deepens as he rolls onto his shoulder, props on an elbow and lets his fingers wander across Shepard’s chest.

“You seem _awfully_ enamored with me tonight.”

“Can you blame me? You’re breathtaking.”

Shepard preens a little under his touch. “Such flattery. You won me over a long time ago. Hardly need to keep trying so hard.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Kaidan murmurs softly, stroking his cheek with a finger. “Look at you. I could tell you every day for the rest of your life how beautiful you are, and it wouldn’t be enough. Also, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Probably not. But I won’t… _discourage_ you.”

“Okay then, I think I will.” He leans over and kisses him, soft, slow, unbearably tender. “You’re beautiful, Sam.”

“Flirt.”

Kaidan huffs, tracing Shepard’s eyebrows with a thumb, thrill running through him as Shepard gazes back at him. No shield emitters. No opaque mirror. Right here, right now, all he sees in those eyes is Sam.

“You know,” Kaidan muses, “I used to be intimidated as hell by that stare of yours.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The way you just…look at someone like you’ve speared them to a wall.”

“I find it helps me get the information I want a lot faster,” he says with a lopsided smile.

Kaidan chuckles. “Well, it works. ‘Cause when you turned it on me I was terrified.”

Shepard sobers. “Kaidan, I never—”

Kaidan cups his cheek with a hand. “Those eyes…you read people in a glance. I swear it’s like you look right into their soul. I was always scared you’d look at me and…see.”

His brow creases. “See what?”

“That I never wanted you to look away.”

Shepard traps Kaidan’s hand with his own, expression raw.

“You’d smile at me and I’d see the sunrise. That rush of static I get from your field feels like coming home. I hear your voice and know I’m safe. I…I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too,” Shepard whispers.

He pulls Kaidan down into another kiss, and it’s a long time before he lets go.


	8. Laugh Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A short scene where Sam compliments Kaidan.

Shepard shifts in his spot on the couch, attempting to restore feeling to his right thigh without disturbing Kaidan, whose head rests in his lap. He’d fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago, still in his post-migraine t-shirt and sweats, making that soft half-breathing, half-snoring sound he insists he doesn’t make. Kaidan stirs at the repositioning but doesn’t open his eyes – _victory –_ and Shepard sighs as the blood starts flowing back where it belongs.

Pins and needles aside…he lives for these moments. Kaidan nestled against him, relaxed and warm – except for his fucking hands, _how_ are his hands always blocks of ice – a study in stillness. It’s a chance to study him unobserved, take in every line, every feature, and update his mental map. Like the new silver strands creeping from his temple into the thick mop on his head. The freckle on his cheek that he swears wasn’t there a few weeks ago. The faint scar across his lower lip.

Shepard brushes a finger along the lines at the corner of Kaidan’s eyes, deeper now than they used to be. Those…those are his favorite. 

They’re getting older. Both of them.

It’s…a gift. One he never thought they’d get.

The half-snore stops, and a pair of half-awake brown eyes blink up at him.

“Hey, you,” Shepard murmurs. “How do you feel?”

Kaidan yawns and stretches before settling back into Shepard’s lap, and right back on the tingling thigh. “Better. Did I fall back asleep?”

“Mmhmm.”

His eyes narrow and he wipes at the corner of his mouth. “Did I drool on you?”

“No,” Shepard assures him, gently shifting him to a better spot. “Not this time. Just got to stare at your gorgeous face for a few extra minutes.”

“ _Gorgeous,_ huh. What’s so gorgeous about my face?”

“These,” Shepard says softly, tracing those tiny lines again with his thumb.

“Crow’s feet. You think my crow’s feet are gorgeous.”

The corner of Shepard’s mouth quirks in a smile. “They’re laugh lines, you ass. When you laugh, your eyes crinkle up – see, like _that –_ and it’s breathtaking.”

Kaidan’s chuckle quiets, but the smile on his face stays. “All right. Laugh lines. I like it.”

“Yeah. Do you know how much effort I’ve put into making you laugh over the years? There’s no pain that laugh can’t cure. Like to think you have those lines because of me.”

“Maybe I do,” Kaidan says, closing his eyes as Shepard cards his fingers through his hair. “Mmm. That feels nice.”

“Self-serving. I have this thing for your hair.”

Kaidan arches his back and stretches, like a cat basking in sunlight. “Oh, I like this. What else do you enjoy so much about me? Go on, shower me with compliments.”

“This.” Shepard pushes the hem of Kaidan’s shirt up to expose bare skin, tracing fingers through the swirl of fine hairs around his belly button. “I don’t know why, but everything about… _this_ is…I’m into it. Is that weird?”

“No,” Kaidan says with a smile.

“Shouldn’t I be into your ass or something? Um. Don’t get me wrong, you have a nice ass.”

The smile gets bigger, with that smirk of _understanding_ that means he knows Shepard’s flailing but is going to sit back and enjoy it. Because he thinks it’s cute. _Somehow_.

“I just…don’t get the galaxy’s obsession with asses in general,” Shepard tries to explain, playing _right_ into that smirk. “I mean, they’re fine, I guess. _Yours_ is fine. Wait, no. Better than fine. Because you’re you and I’ll never be over how beautiful you are and…ah, fuck. You have a very aesthetically pleasing ass, but I’m really into your happy trail, ok?”

“Mmhmm,” Kaidan says, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Yes, I get it.”

Shepard waves a helpless hand. “I’m not good at complimenting you. I can never figure out how the hell to put you into words. None of them are good enough.”

Kaidan catches his hand and kisses his knuckles. “You do a lot better than you think.”

Shepard twists the metal band on Kaidan’s ring finger. The one that’s supposed to symbolize everything Shepard’s felt for _years_ , that there is only one person he ever wants to belong to, or have belong to him. He’d scoffed at the symbol, at first.

Loving Kaidan is ingrained, a choice he makes day in and day out without thinking, no different and no less automatic than his _choice_ to breathe. It’s part him. _Fact_. Something that simply…is. Why did they need a symbol for something that to him, needs no reinforcement?

But he’s grown to like it. A tactile reminder that he’s given part of himself to someone else, and accepted part of him in return. Some things just need to be expressed out loud, in plain view. 

He folds their fingers together, smiling at the familiar chill of Kaidan’s cold hand against his warm one. 

“There’s just…a _you-_ shaped space everywhere I go. If you’re not there to fill it…nothing feels right. There’s nothing about you I don’t love.”

Kaidan’s smirk softens, that awestruck look coming into his eyes Shepard could just fall into and never find his way out of.

“Your stance on peppermint begs to differ,” Kaidan points out.

Shepard bites back a retort – this is supposed to be about _compliments –_ and takes a deep breath. “Your unholy love of a flavor that’s an abomination against any god anyone’s ever believed in is part of who you are.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss against Kaidan’s lips.

“And I love who you are.”

Kaidan gazes up at him. It’s a look Shepard has seen a thousand times before, and wants to see a thousand times again.

“I love you, too, Sam.”

Shepard hesitates, then wrinkles his nose. “The peppermint is pretty awful, though.”

Kaidan laughs, lines at the corner of his eyes deepening, and Shepard revels in the sound. 


	9. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Write a short exchange of dirty talk between them.

Kaidan walks past Shepard sprawled on the couch on his way upstairs, nearly reaching the steps before he stops, turns, and blinks.

“You’re naked,” Kaidan says.

“Someone’s observant,” Shepard replies, elbow propped on a cushion and indeed wearing nothing but a smirk. He stretches a little to emphasize it, arcing his hips _just_ so. Kaidan runs a finger over his datapad. It’s a nice, uh. View.

“Aren’t you cold?” Kaidan asks. “It’s freezing in here.”

Shepard rolls his eyes. “Then why don’t you come warm me up.”

Kaidan retraces his steps back to the couch and sits on the edge, being _much_ more observant this time. These days, the hard muscle Shepard wore as a soldier has grown softer, and he carries a hint more flesh than he used to.

It’s beautiful. He’s _beautiful_.

“Looking like that, think I might do more than warm you up,” Kaidan murmurs, running a hand down his chest.

_“Fuck,_ your _ice cube_ hands,” Shepard yelps, belly jumping under Kaidan’s fingers. “I said _warm me up_ , not give me hypothermia.”

“I’m sorry, are you seducing me, or…..?”

“ _Yes,_ damn it, I’m seducing you. Be seduced.”

“Dunno,” Kaidan muses. “I might need more of a show.”

Shepard drops his chin as well as his voice. “C’mere and kiss me and I’ll give you a show you won’t soon forget.”

Ok, not his smoothest move, but the voice works every time, so Kaidan leans in to oblige him. Shepard’s lips part willingly as Kaidan slips his tongue past. Warm, soft, and…what the _fuck?_

He sputters and tries to pull back, but Shepard already has an arm locked around his waist.

“Is that _vinegar_ in your mouth?”

Shepard grins.

“Did you gargle _vinegar_?” Kaidan exclaims.

“Maybe.”

Kaidan stares at him. “You tried to seduce me so that I’d get a mouthful of _vinegar_ when I kissed you?”

“ _Tried?_ I think I _successfully_ seduced you.”

“You’re just lying there naked with that fucking grin I fucking love. Like it was _hard.”_

Shepard waggles an eyebrow. “Not the only thing that’s hard.” He presses himself against Kaidan’s thigh.

Kaidan narrows his eyes and does some pressing of his own. Only it’s the backs of his knuckles against Shepard’s pelvis. Now Kaidan’s the one grinning when Shepard squawks in dismay and nearly shoves Kaidan off the couch.

“Fucking swear I’m going to find you some goddamned _mittens_ ,” Shepard grumbles.

“No you won’t.”

“And what makes _you_ so confident?”

Kaidan leans closer to whisper in his ear. “Because you love what I do with my hands.”

Shepard swallows. “Ok, you may have a point there.”

“Come on.” Kaidan takes him by the hand to pull him off the couch. “We’re going upstairs. I’m not kissing you again until you’ve gone through half a bottle of mouthwash. This is revenge for the lemon the other day, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shepard confirms as they trudge up the stairs hand in hand. “And I’m about to get laid for it, so you’re not exactly discouraging future retaliation.”

“Sam, there is an entire bag of black licorice in the pantry.”

“You _wouldn’t_.”

“Depends on how many times you tell me I’m pretty and I believe it.”

When they reach the top of the steps, Shepard tugs on Kaidan’s hand, spinning him around until they’re in each other’s arms.

“You are, you know,” he murmurs, running a thumb along Kaidan’s jaw. His other arm tightens around Kaidan’s waist. “You’re beautiful. I can’t get over it sometimes.”

A knowing smile spreads across Kaidan’s face as Shepard nestles his naked body against Kaidan’s fully clothed chest.

“You’re freezing, aren’t you.”

Shepard huffs against Kaidan’s neck. “Okay, fine, yes, it’s _freezing,_ I’m _freezing_.”

Kaidan chuckles as he presses a kiss against his temple. “Then go wash your disgusting mouth out, and when it actually tastes like mouth again I’ll be waiting under the covers wearing about as much as you are.”

Shepard gazes at him for a moment. “I love you, you know that?”

“Love you too, Sam.” 


	10. Our Constellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A style experiment.

_You stand at the door as your heart pounds, surrounded by white noise and the smell of antiseptic and alcohol, and almost don’t go in._

_We have watched you stand against immortal tyrants armed with nothing more than the sheer force of your will, we have watched you asphyxiate amongst our stars and rise again from the ashes to fight again._

_But you are not ready for this._

_It doesn’t stop you._

_The first thing you notice when you enter the room is how small he looks. All your years together, he has never looked small. Frail. But he does now, and it fills you with fear._

_You step closer to his bedside, as if you expect him to wake and throw you out. But he is so still. So quiet. His head is bandaged but you can still see his face, and the bruising spread across it you couldn’t stop._

_You couldn’t stop it. You weren’t fast enough. Powerful enough. It crushed his head against a slab of metal while you watched, helpless to save him, and now the only hope you have to cling to is the shallow rise and fall of his chest._

_What will you do if it stops?_

_He is everything._

_He, who has turned away from you, doubted you, questioned you, is still everything._

_You pull a chair close to his bedside. Lives depend on you. Civilizations depend on what you will do next. You don’t know why, you have never known why, but they look to you to save them and you would damn them all to stay right here, with this one, single life you hold so dear._

_He is everything, even if you fear you are no longer everything to him._

_You do not know what we know. You do not know how much he has hurt for you, ached for you, wished for you, that in what might have been his final conscious moments, he thought only of you._

_All you know is that this time, you may lose him the way he once lost you._

_You hold his hand, remember the way it used to curl around yours like it belonged, like it was made to fit. You whisper his name, thinking no one is around to hear it._

_We hear it._

_We hear you. You, who have traversed our constellations since the day you were born, who have seen the birth and death of our stars in shrouds of cosmic dust, who have walked planets spun from stellar matter into living, breathing gardens, who have wielded our power in the palm of your hand. Of all the living things that now dwell in our stars, you are our greatest bulwark against the encroaching flames._

_And yet, if given the choice between the beauty of the universe and him, you would gladly let us burn._

_But that choice does not lie with you now. There is nothing you can do. You have to leave him here, and hope there is something left to come back to._

_And yet you stay a little while longer. A small act of defiance, or perhaps, a simple act of love._

_You have such tremendous capacity to love._

_But there is nothing simple about the way you brush your lips across his knuckles, or lay his hand back down on the sheet._

_There is nothing simple about the job you need to do, or the strength you will need to do it._

_Your strength is right here in this room, and you cannot bring it with you._

_You feel old when you finally rise from the chair, but you rise. Your heart aches when you walk to the door, but you walk, though you look over your shoulder one last time before you go. You don’t know if you can do this, but you’re going to try._

_You have to try. For him, you have to try._

_So you leave._


	11. The Pasta Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I often get Asks on tumblr inquiring about Sam's peculiar and memorable food preferences. Sometimes fic happens.

Shepard’s doing reports in the mess again. Clay Beaudoin eyes him from the coffee pot in the galley as he waits for a fresh one to brew. The remnants of Shepard’s take on coffee are down the drain where they belong, and the idea is to refresh and escape before the LC gets it in his mind to pour a second cup and discovers what’s in the pot is actually fit for human consumption.

Doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up any time soon, though. He’s engrossed in what he’s doing, fingers drumming the tabletop, fixated on a datapad. Shepard’s in the zone.

Aslany comes up behind him – the way she tortures the deck plates with her boots is too distinct to mistake for someone else – and slides an empty mug onto the counter next to his.

“Afternoon caffeine shots all around it seems,” Clay muses.

She nods at Shepard. “I didn’t get to the pot before he did.”

“I never thought you of all people would be too chickenshit to dump out his tar.”

She folds her arms across her chest, eyebrow raised. “Fuck you, too. Shepard’s got no tastebuds and no fucks to give. You wanna tempt fate, be my fuckin’ guest.”

Clay leans out past her to get another look at the LC, who’s still lost in his work. “Can’t figure out if he doesn’t have tastebuds or if the N program reprogrammed ‘em all. He actually _likes_ whatever he does to coffee.”

Aslany rests a hip against the counter, arms still crossed. “I’m telling you he gives no fucks what he eats. Betcha he’d scarf a box of uncooked pasta if you gave it to him.”

Clay rolls his eyes. “Now you’re reaching.”

Aslany can do things with her eyebrows most people only dream of.

“I have _seen_ him eat a bowl of plain-ass iceberg lettuce.”

“Bullshit.”

“Like a motherfucking _rabbit,_ Beaudoin.”

“You know what? I’ll take that bet. Twenty credits says he won’t actually eat uncooked pasta.”

Aslany smirks. As if on cue, Pendergrass wanders into the galley.

“I smelled coffee that isn’t burnt sludge.”

Aslany opens a cabinet, digs out a canister of spaghetti and hands it to her. “Wanna see if the LC’ll eat it?”

“Raw?” She wrinkles her nose. “Of course he would.”

Beaudoin rolls his eyes. “He wouldn’t. Twenty credits say he won’t.”

“Watch.”

Pendergrass grabs the pasta out of Aslany’s hands and walks right up to Shepard’s table, sets it down, and walks back to the coffee pot without comment. Shepard doesn’t even look up.

“You’re both batshit,” Clay mutters under his breath, but now he can’t take his eyes away. The coffee is done brewing, but none of them touch it.

Aslany shakes her head. “He literally ate alien tree bark for N5. You’re losing this bet. Just fuckin’ watch.” 

N5 is _different._ You don’t exactly have choices in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way he eats a rod of spaghetti as a _snack,_ just because it’s _there,_ when there’s an entire galley stuffed with things that are edible. And have taste. And don’t break your teeth _._

No one just _eats_ uncooked pasta. Not even the guy who eats plain, unbuttered toast. Boiling a pot of water isn’t that hard.

His eyes widen as Shepard idly pulls a stick of spaghetti out of the container, and starts chewing. It snaps between his teeth.

“Mother _fucker.”_

Aslany holds a hand out. “Pay up.”

“I don’t even believe this. Who _does_ that?”

Pendergrass jabs a thumb in Shepard’s direction.

Alenko chooses that moment to stride out of the elevator on the opposite side of the mess, also with his face in a datapad, mumbling under his breath as he heads towards Shepard. He looks up, the LC’s name on his lips, but the sound never gets out of his mouth. At the sight of Shepard chomping a stick of spaghetti he comes to a full stop. The slow wave of dismay that washes over his features is a sight to behold. He blinks, opens his mouth, closes it, then just turns around and walks back out.

Pendergrass snickers. Aslany snorts into her fist. Clay just sighs.

At the table, still looking down at his datapad, the corner of Shepard’s lip curves up in a smile as he fishes out another stick. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to chat about mShenko, you can find me at swaps55.tumblr.com. :)


End file.
